


Happy 69

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: A collection of couples enjoying a classic move. *tags and chapters added with new chapters*
Relationships: Amanda Holliday/Sloane, Enoch Bast/Marcus Ren, Ikora Rey/Zavala, Shiro-4/Cayde-6
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	1. Amanda/Sloane

**Author's Note:**

> I'm celebrating my 69th fic on AO3! How long will it go? How many couples? Uh... As many couples and as many ways as I can imagine to 69 I guess. XD

"You're sure this is a good idea?"

Sloane laughs and tilts her chin to look down the length of her bare body where Amanda's face hovers- hair already mussed from tumbling and kissing and cheeks red with just the idea of the next step. "It was _your_ idea. So you tell me."

"It looked great in my head'" Amanda admits with a small gulp. "But now I'm thinking I've lost my damn mind."

"I thought you liked to fly?"

"Not upside down!"

"Afraid I'll drop you?"

"Maybe a little?"

"I promise I won't." Sloane rubs soothingly at the back of slim thighs braced on either side of her ears. "Ready to give it go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be I s'pose. Cripes! Guardian insanity really must be contagious!"

"I'm sure you're right. Don't forget to tap out if you start to get dizzy. Here we go!"

Sloane rolls off the bed in the smoothest situp and brings Amanda with her, supporting legs over shoulders. The shipwright squeals and tightens her thighs around the Deputy Commander's face as the world begins to turn topsy turvy. Sloane can only chuckle as she's unintentionally, sexily smothered. She kisses the inside of a nervously quaking thigh in warning and stands. 

Aside from a little wild scrabbling and some colorful curses, Amanda takes her first vertical 69 pretty well. A few gentle kisses to the woman's already wet lips helps to refocus attention. Amanda's blunt nails only dig into Sloane's sturdy thighs until the blonde gets her nerves under better control and finally lets herself relax and hang.

"All good down there?" Sloane calls as if the distance is far greater than it really is.

The hitch of Amanda's breath rocks her belly against Sloane's chest and the Titan wraps one arm a little tighter around that wiggling waist and uses the other to stroke her lover's spine.

"Yeah," Amanda's voice trails off, rough and airy, "yeah, I'm good."

Which is the classic sound of Amanda Holliday discovering something she really, really likes.

The second Amanda kisses Sloane's mound, the Titan reminds herself to keep a firm but gentle grip, licks her lips, and goes to work making dreams come true.


	2. Cayde/Shiro

"I'm the six in this scenario right?"

Shiro pauses with his hands in his Vanguard's pants and lets out a long sigh. He twists to look over his shoulder. "You're not seriously trying to joke right now."

Cayde is propped up on his elbows, jaw hanging crooked in a smile. "Jokes aren't serious by nature. That's what makes them jokes! But I _am_ the six right? Get it? Because it's a sixty-nine and I'm Cayde-6 so that-"

"I get it," Shiro interrupts dryly. "It's bad."

"Hey!" Cayde swats Shiro's ass in offense. "Just trying to keep the mood light!"

"And I'm trying to suck you off. Which is also what you're supposed to be doing," the scout reminds firmly. 

"Hey! I'm down!" Cayde shrugs. "I'm just making a little observational humor. I guess it would be funnier if you were Shiro-9 and not Shiro-4."

"Ok," Shiro huffs. Apparently, Cayde is in a chatty mood. Which wouldn't be an issue if Shiro hadn't just returned from a couple long months of solo missions. He gets his feet under him and springs up leaving his bewildered Vanguard on the floor. "I'm going to head on out now."

"What?! Where are you going?"

"To find a sixty-five who doesn't talk so much!"

Cayde gawks for a second before…

"Now you're talking math, not numbers. That completely changes- Hey! Hey, wait a minute! Shiro!"

The door creaks like a witch's laugh as it closes behind the scout.

Cayde belatedly scrambles to his feet and zips his fly. 

"Shoulda stuck with weapon innuendos," the Exo mutters to himself before he jogs off in pursuit of his partner.


	3. Marcus/Enoch

With some precision footwork, Enoch manages to raise the garage door without releasing the bag in his left hand or the bottles in his right. He even catches the door on a well-practiced heel and lets it down gently once inside. He whistles through the space, some diddy he heard on the radio at the taco stand, and swings the plastic bag of street food as he picks his way across the clutter of Marcus' post-race-season 'creative spree'.

Enoch steps over the remains of the commercial cleaning drone he bought in a last ditch effort years ago and his whistling tune dips in sympathy before zipping up into a happy salutation. "I'm back! They were out of pico so I swung by the corner mart. Which means I also brought beer!"

There's no rousing cheer to meet his announcement. In fact, there's no Marcus at all. Enoch does a double take. He definitely left his husband working in this room. It's an uncertain game of eye spy until Enoch finally recognizes the man-shaped lump stretched out along the back of a stripped sparrow frame n the corner.

Enoch clucks into the pocket of his cheek as he shakes his head. "Poor thing. All tuckered out from wrecking the place."

Tacos and beer deposited on the nearest, clean(ish) surface, Enoch eases closer. Marcus is breathing nice and easy, hands folded over his rising and falling belly, feet crossed and hanging over the low windshield while the rest of him rests in an effortlessly balanced line on the narrow seat. Only a Hunter or a cat could sleep like that. Marcus doesn't so much as twitch in Enoch's shadow. Which probably means sleep is more important than even tacos.

Enoch clucks again. To the fridge it is. But before he can drift off to be responsible, he notices something funny about the shape of his husband's fly.

"Whatcha dreaming about?" The Titan whispers, amused, more to himself than the dozing Hunter.

There is one thing maybe more important than tacos OR sleep and if Marcus wakes to it, Enoch is almost sure to be forgiven.

He uses what's left of the sparrow hood to balance and throws his leg over the Hunter's waist, careful not to strike the sparrow and knock it from its perch of cement blocks. It feels funny to be in riding position with a whole man between him and the sparrow seat, but he's ridden both separately plenty of times. 

Enoch glances over his shoulder and snickers at his still snoozing husband's face. He shuffles back his feet, undoes the familiar, worn fly in front of him, and leans down to get his mouth around his partner. Marcus goes from half hard to full hard in Enoch's mouth without so much as a twitch of crossed legs. Enoch glances up and snorts at barely-laced boots. He plans to tease Marcus later about how old he's getting if he can't bend to tie his shoes and sleeps through sexual encounters.

Only teasing of course. Enoch has very little to be dissatisfied with. He sucks and swallows if only to keep from drowning in his overzealous spit, before relaxing his throat and easing that beautiful cock as far as he can. With a twist of his head, he can nuzzle the balls resting bunched atop crossed thighs before pulling up and off. He tries not to gasp for air like a New Light with his first dick but it's been a while; race season means lots of interviews and there's nothing more awkward than pretending you're an immortal who caught a cold when you've really sucked cock a bit too enthusiastically the night before and left yourself with a sore throat and a cackling partner. Marcus' hands in his hair, fingers pressed tight to Enoch's hot scalp, a long drag, a gentle scratch, being pressed down, down, down- even thinking about it makes Enoch hard and he wiggles back a little until his cock rubs against his husband's chest. He moans and it's at least a little quieter than it might be without Hunter dick clogging his mouth.

There's a flash of loose laces, a sigh. Groin muscles tense beneath Enoch's spread hands, something shifts beneath the Titan's belly, and then a fantastic smack echoes throughout the garage.

"Ren!" Enoch shouts wetly, always defaulting to his husband's racing name when he's in trouble.

Double hands squeeze Enoch's ass, right atop smarting flesh.

"Enoch!" Marcus responds warmly and rubs cheeks as if they're a grand discovery. The man's cock jumps- a glistening wave of 'hello'.

Enoch huffs and burries his face into a bouncing thigh as Marcus laughs beneath him. His face flushes and he savors the attention for a moment.

"You hungry?" Enoch finally asks with an affectionate grin and a twisting look back at his love. "I brought tacos."

Marcus blinks and his eyes glitter before they disappear in a wide smile. "Great! But you know I'm gonna have to eat this first."

Enoch yelps and squirms when his pants are spread tight and teeth nip the inside curve of a cheek. By the time teeth and tongue leave a wet patch along his rear seam, words are little more than a stuttering reflex.

"Isn't...there still a cot in-"

Enoch whimpers when his hips are pulled back, dick dragging beneath him.

"No, no, no," comes the response muffled by flesh as Marcus shakes his head, nearly motorboating his husband's ass, "you started this here. What did I teach you about racing?"

The Titan fumbles for words. His belt buckle clicks as Marcus wrestles it open. "Uh, a crowded inside track's not always as good as an open door on the outside?"

Pants are peeled back just enough for Marcus' breath to tickle against Enoch's fluttering pucker as he corrects. "Win or lose, you always finish a race you start."

Enoch chuckles- only to lose his breath at the first direct flick of a tongue- and he shakes his head as he sighs. "You've literally never said that to me before."

"Shh." Two fingers gently spread the Titan's hole. "I'm thinking of making it my thing next season."

"Yeah?" Enoch jolts as that slick organ licks inside his rim. "Then we better make you honest. Teach me how to finish what I start, Ren."

Marcus hums and digs in.


	4. Ikora/Zavala

"Lakshmi is requesting an urgent meeting."

Ikora levels a sideways look at Ophiuchus.

"I know." The Ghost glances curiously at Ikora's busy mouth and hands and then down her body- hiked robes and all- to the Vanguard Commander between her thighs, who is also...very busy, before catching himself and looking away. "Sorry to interrupt but Lakshmi is very insistent."

Ikora pulls off the hard column of flesh with a last wet kiss though she keeps her hands kneading and tugging languidly. Something Zavala seems to appreciate. Ikora stares at her Ghost. "Is it 'life and death' urgent or 'Future War Cult' urgent?"

"The latter, I suspect."

"Then inform Lakshmi that Commander Zavala and I are in a private meeting. We are operating at maximum efficiency-"

Zavala chuckles at that and Ikora's mouth falls open briefly in response to the vibration. The Warlock Vanguard rolls her hips back with a tiny grin before trying again.

"-maximum efficiency," Ikora reiterates, "and that we will finish when we finish."

"I'll let her know."

Ikora returns to her partner. Her Ghost lingers.

"Ophi-

"Oh! Right away. Of course." 


End file.
